Capturing the Silken Thief (4 page)

All hesitation melted away.

This time when he lifted his head, it was to take her breast into his mouth. His tongue circled her nipple, a liquid abrasion, and her back arched in a shock of desire. At the same time, his hand strayed downward to dip gently between her thighs. Roughened fingers against smooth flesh. The ripple of sensation curled her toes until she cried out.

Yes. Let their bodies persuade one another. For a moment, she’d allowed herself to think of the impossible. To yearn for permanence in this floating world. It had frightened her and Cheng had sensed it, without knowing what it was. This room, this moment, were all passing things.

Cheng shifted above her. This was a primal language without words. He was ready. There could be no more waiting. She was ready too. A moment of anticipation as he placed himself against her. A pause in time, and then it began.

He pushed himself into her, willing her to take him in. So much growing pressure until she couldn’t bear it. She swallowed and curved her arms around him, her legs around him, as he moved in her, taking her breath. Taking everything.

He lifted and thrust forward again. Pushing the pleasure so deep that it radiated through every part of her. Amidst the storm, they kissed; his mouth on her mouth, his hand on her breast. Joined completely down below. Touching as much as they could, in every way possible.

She closed her eyes. An image from the pillow book came to her of two lovers clutched together. She became the woman, her entire body lost to ecstasy. Cheng tensed above her. His movements became short and focused. Her body gripped his in fervent pleasure. This moment was fleeting, but this act was eternal.

And then her mind went black, and there was nothing but heat, urgency, ecstasy. The rest of it had no words. Their coupling seared away everything else.

She clutched Cheng tighter as the climax rushed over her. Then she opened her eyes to watch greedily as Cheng reached his peak.

They lay still, heartbeats gradually slowing. Cheng twined his fingers lazily through hers. Her body still throbbed with the low echoes of their joining and she could hear music playing faintly from outside.

“Don’t you have to wake up early tomorrow for your exams?” Rose asked him.

They faced each other, lying side by side. The bed was too small for them to share it without being intertwined. Her bare leg stretched languidly over his as she pointed her toe to tease his foot. The blankets were in a tangle between them.

Cheng grinned. “There are exams tomorrow?”

He could climb Mount Tai with the energy circling through him.

Rose shifted to meet him eye to eye. Her outer robe fell slightly away, gracing him with the topmost curve of one breast. Just a hint of smooth skin and feminine softness before being hidden again behind maddening folds of silk. She’d draped the garment over her shoulders as the evening chill set in. If he could afford coal to heat the room, he might have convinced her to remain naked beside him. The small luxuries money could buy.

She swatted him lightly across this chest. “Men are so easily distracted.”

“But you’re particularly distracting.”

“Shameless charmer,” she accused.

He could see the hint of a smile before she ducked her face into the crook of her arm. There was so much more to her than she revealed. Rose liked his compliments, but refused to admit it. The only time she hadn’t hidden behind barbs or insults or a small show of bullying was when they’d made love, though she had bitten his shoulder rather cruelly at one point during their second time. He hadn’t minded.

Aimless conversation had taken them into the later stretches of the night. Rose spoke about the exotic trinkets they sold in the East Market and the well-tended parks of Changan. The ponds were filled with fish released from the market. Released from captivity into a larger prison, according to Rose.

He, in turn, told her of his province: the terraced farms with rows of millet and rice. About jade-green dragonflies that hovered over the harvest and how excited young boys would catch and tether them onto silk strings. He felt like an excited boy himself beside her. The imperial exam was as far away as the kingdom of Zhao.

“I’ve seen students rushing to the exam hall with books held open, still reading,” she said. “There’s nothing left for you to study?”

He ran a hand over the cinch of her waist and down to the rise of her hip. “Nothing more worthwhile than this.”

“You’re very confident all of a sudden.”

“I have reason to be.”

She smirked. “Because of one essay?”

He ran his gaze over her face, then slowly down to the very tips of her toes which were painted red. Women held so many pleasant little secrets.

“Because I sense there’s nothing the heavens would deny me today.”

She snorted.

“Master Sun says, ‘Be assured of your success and you will not fail’,” he quoted.

“Modesty is attended with profit, arrogance brings on destruction,” she countered.

“Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.”

She wound a lock of his hair around her fingers and tugged playfully. “I see you go to your exams properly armed with a hundred proverbs.”

“A thousand,” he corrected. “And I must have read ten thousand books.”

“And traveled ten thousand
li
.” Rose laughed as she completed the saying.

As much as Cheng liked her laugh, Old Man Doubt was back upon him. The exchange of proverbs brought back all the sayings and all the books he’d tried to absorb. He couldn’t chase the anxiety back with wine, or even with Rose. The favoured sons of noblemen had the leisure of spending years and years taking and retaking the exams. Without a good name or wealth to shelter him, he had nothing to rely on but his own abilities. This was his last chance.

“I must be ready.” He rolled onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. “There’s nothing left I can do to prepare.”

He let his voice fall away, along with his swagger. Fear and uncertainty poured inside in its place. So many others were counting on him. If his name wasn’t called out, he’d have no choice but to go home in shame.

Rose leaned over, her expression no longer taunting. “I’m sure you’ll pass this time.”

He shrugged and made a sound that meant nothing. Such empty encouragement was meant to puff his chest out with pride, but Rose didn’t need to stoop to such flattery for him. It wasn’t like her.

“No,” she insisted. She placed her palm flat against his chest. “You will pass.”

Her large eyes held onto him while his heartbeat thudded against her fingertips. He’d hidden so much of himself behind courtesy in an effort to become civilized. At every step, he walked in fear of revealing himself as a rough-mannered country lout. Yet Rose wasn’t afraid of anything. She went after what she wanted without doubt and without apology.

She wasn’t gracing him with empty words as a courtesan might. She was trying to give him a touch of that same stubborn determination.

He had to kiss her. He had to do something to seal this moment, but he was at a loss. Even a kiss seemed too insignificant.

Slowly his hand closed over hers. “Rose?”

Her voice came out as barely a breath. “Yes?”

“You’ve never played anything for me.”

She frowned, pretty lips pouted together.

“Play something.”

“Now? Here?” She looked about the room.

He smiled and went to the corner, returning with Rose’s instrument. “A song to inspire me.”

“But it’s nighttime,” she protested.

“Which is the same as daytime in the North Hamlet,” he insisted. The apartments around them were likely still empty during the prime drinking hours of the night. Not that it mattered. The entire world was contained within his chamber tonight; everything he could ever need or want.

He placed the instrument into her waiting hands and reclined back on the opposite edge of the bed to watch. Rose took the tortoiseshell pick in hand and settled the pipa across her lap. She cradled the long wooden neck against her palm and positioned her fingers over the silk strings. Her black hair fell in a fan over one shoulder as she bent over the instrument.

Propped on one elbow, Cheng settled in to listen. Rose bestowed him an indulgent look before striking the first notes with the tips of her nails. She chose a song in the lyrical style. Sound flowed from the instrument; at first rapid and bold, then hesitant, like the unpredictable rhythm of falling rain. And just as clean and pure. Just as seductive.

He’d expected Rose to be technically skilled. He recognized her familiarity with the instrument and the thoughtful way she positioned her hands. Each elegant movement had been crafted and perfected, but the unbidden sensuality that emerged stunned him. His pulse absorbed the song and his breathing slowed. The music slipped inside him, swimming warm through his veins like liquor.

He clapped his hands together as the last note faded. “That was wonderful!”

Rose bowed her head slightly, her hair falling over her eyes in a gesture so demure that he was certain she was still performing.

“Another song,” he insisted.

Her eyes were deep and mysterious. Her robe parted enticingly to reveal the pale skin of her throat. She shook her head.

“Please.”

“You’d have to pay me and I know you have no cash left.”

“Once I pass the imperial exams, I’ll have you play for me every night.”

Rose grew very still all of a sudden. With stiff movements, she turned to place the pipa by the side of the bed, her face purposely angled away.

“Rose?”

“Once you pass, you can host a great celebration banquet and invite any musician you wish.” She made a move as if to rise. He had to reach across the bed to take hold of her arm.

“Rose, wait,” he implored, as gently as he could.

“It’s rather late.” Her voice sounded muted.

Rose’s back presented an impenetrable wall. He could make out the rise of her shoulder blades beneath the silk.

“I’ve said something wrong.” What had he done to ruin things? Just moments earlier, they’d been happy together. At least he’d thought so.

“You need to sleep, oh brilliant scholar,” she said in a tone that was meant to be light.

“But we haven’t even had the wine,” he said in a tone that wasn’t meant to be desperate.

“Save it to celebrate after the exams.”

“Please stay. We’ll sleep, just…just stay.”

He soothed his hand down her back. Anything to heal the rift. Rose answered by lowering herself back onto the bed, still never looking directly at him. He left her that barrier as he folded himself in behind her. His arm found her waist. Her body only conceded after a pause, curving back to fit against him.

Carefully, he brushed her hair back from her neck, making a place for his head beside hers. They lay together in silence and he could hardly believe that only moments earlier there had been music in the room. And laughter shortly before that.

“I didn’t know you could play with such emotion,” he said.

His lips caressed the spot behind her ear. He wanted to show her he wasn’t just a country oaf. Rose had become as fragile as a paper doll in his arms.

“There’s nothing emotional about it,” she said. “I just practise. Practise all the time, until my fingers bleed.”

She sounded distant and he didn’t want to argue, but he remembered how her song had filled him. It had to move her the same way. Or maybe he was being one of those overly romantic scholars. He could hear Rose laughing at him over that.

Yet he was certain she’d poured herself into that song. There was no bitterness or cynicism there. For a moment she had opened herself up to him. It was hard to imagine that Rose could be fragile beneath her hard exterior. He closed his eyes and held her until she was asleep.

Jia woke with one half of her exposed to chilled air. The other half was pressed up against a large, warm mass of muscle from which an elbow protruded to dig into her side. Her hands were clutched onto the edge of the wool blanket in what was clearly a losing battle.

The dark of the room and the strangeness of the surroundings pressed down on her. The world outside was quiet which meant it was still early. The streets of Changan hadn’t yet woken. She lay still, one arm warm and one arm cold, while she listened to the steady rumble of Cheng’s breathing.

His presence tempted her. There was peace and comfort here, close enough to touch. Desire, hope, and fulfillment. A hundred more things she couldn’t yet know. She closed her eyes and let herself indulge in the fantasy, but that was all it was. Every song girl and courtesan dreamed about having a wealthy patron, but she didn’t want to be anyone’s servant. Especially not Luo Cheng’s after what they had shared.

With a sigh, she surrendered the battle and let go of the blanket. Her pipa was by the bed, her slippers should be somewhere close. She reached over the side and felt along the floor with one hand to locate them. Pulling the edges of her robe together, she started to slide from the bed.

“Hey.”

A drowsy murmur startled her. Jia found herself snatched up in strong arms and tumbled back to the centre of the bed. Cheng covered her with the length and breadth of his body, using his elbows to support his weight over her.

“Where are you going?” In several sharp tugs, he’d repositioned the blanket over the both of them to enclose them in warmth.

She blinked up at him as Cheng’s broad hands slipped beneath her back, lifting her into the cradle of his embrace. His hair was untied and fell to his shoulders. His eyes squeezed shut as he yawned. Something about it seemed so endearing.

“You have a busy morning,” she said.

“Not until the gong for the Snake Hour sounds.”

She’d had her one night, why tarnish it by becoming greedy for more? “But you’ll have to prepare.”

Cheng stubbornly refused to move. He bent his head to kiss an exposed spot on her shoulder. “You have a momentous day ahead as well.”

“What do you mean?”

“What will you do now that you’re a wealthy woman?” Cheng asked.

She wasn’t truly wealthy, but the paper note tucked away in her purse was enough to pay off all her debts with a little to spare. “I can play with my musicians’ troupe if Old Man Han will still allow it. Or I can make arrangements with tea houses on my own. The important thing is that every coin I earn will now be my own.”

The plan sounded empty to her own ears. She was like the carp she’d talked about, freed from a vat to remain captive in a larger pond. Odd that she’d planned and plotted for so long and now that her destiny was her own, she was a little lost and dizzy, like a child who’d run in circles for too long.

“Perhaps I’ll run a drinking house of my own one day,” she added.

“Really?” Cheng looked pleased. “My shrewd businesswoman.”

His use of the possessive made her chest squeeze tight. “You’re meant for even bigger things, I’m certain,” she said.

He laughed, a little nervous. “We’ll see how I fare against the exams. The battle wages on for an entire week.”

Her dreams for Cheng were somehow more vivid than her own. He would pass his exams and be given a grand position within the imperial government. At night he’d come to visit her, wherever she was playing, but not as a sponsor or patron. They would be lovers. Friends.

“I may end up on the bridge over Wei River,” he said.

“Don’t say that!” That was a poor joke and she pinched him for it until he winced. Students were known to throw themselves off of the bridge in dishonour after being unable to pass. “You’ll be moving into the administrative ward,” she predicted. “Into a huge mansion built for court officials.”

His mouth curved and she grew warm as he looked down at her. “Only if heaven and earth switched places would I qualify for the imperial court,” he said.

He kissed her forehead tenderly and her heart tore, because she knew then that she couldn’t allow herself to accept his regard. It was nothing more than a casual, passing affection. Impermanent; like everything else within the district. As time went by, she would inevitably start to long for more.

Her earlier dream continued, growing faded with time. He would still come to her, but their discourse would become cordial. Their vibrant fire would slowly go to ash, until one day, Cheng wouldn’t come any more. She’d wait and wait and then realize that she’d grown old and withered. He’d found some other song girl or courtesan skilled in the arts of pleasing wealthy and distinguished gentlemen.